


Gabriel

by bjrit92



Category: Supernatural
Genre: All Gabriel x Reader in some way, Ambiguous Relationships, But some are vague in their timeline, Drabbles and Ficlets from Tumblr, I'll add more occasionally I'm sure, Reader-Insert, Several Season 13, miscellaneous, season 13
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-14
Updated: 2018-12-11
Packaged: 2019-08-01 18:12:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 4,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16289405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bjrit92/pseuds/bjrit92
Summary: Here is a collection of Gabriel x Reader drabbles and ficlets from my Tumblr, waywarddaughterwrites. They're all at least vaguely Gabriel x Reader but some of them are a bit ambiguous. I'll add more to these sporadically as plot bunnies take over my brain, I'm sure.





	1. Kiss It

You were quite proud of yourself. You had the bunker to yourself for a few hours while the boys went out to get some supplies and probably stop for a beer or two. You’d decided to make cookies. With the world constantly threatening to end, it had been a long time since you’d had the free time to relax and bake anything, especially from scratch, and you were looking forward to surprising your friends.

Baking had always been a zen experience for you. The science of it focused you and wiped your brain of everything else going on around you. Your mother used to say that a bomb could go off behind you and as long as you were busy baking, you wouldn’t even flinch. Which explains why you never noticed a certain archangel enter the kitchen and take a seat at the table, watching you work.

You put the tray of sugar cookies in the oven and set the timer. Grabbing a fresh mixing bowl, you got to work separating eggs for royal icing. You whipped the whites and sugar together with a whisk, relishing the labor of doing it yourself instead of using a mixer. Separating out the icing into different bowls, you pulled out the food colorings and pastry bags from the cabinet. You got to work creating different colors and shades of icing, ideas of designs running through your mind.

You heard the ding of the timer and turned back to the oven, slipping an oven mitt over one hand. You pulled down the oven door and reached inside, grasping the tray one-handed, your other holding the door open. The oven in the bunker was military-grade, but old, so the door tended to spring back quickly if you weren’t careful and cautious. You pulled the tray toward you, but as you started to lift it, you realized your grip on it wasn’t strong enough and you released the door in an attempt to quickly grasp the other side of the pan, forgetting that you didn’t have a mitt on that hand. The door sprung upward and collided with your hand holding the tray, sending the pan and it’s contents flying out of your grasp. It all happened so quickly that you didn’t have time to think. You reflexively grabbed the pan with your un-gloved hand, scalding your fingers on the hot metal. You yelped and released the pan, the oven door slammed closed, and your tray and cookies were strewn about the floor.

“Mother fucking shit! Shit shit shit!” You yelled as you ran to the sink to flip on the cold water. You squeezed your eyes shut against the pain in your fingers. A hand on your shoulder made them snap open as you startled. Your wide, tear-filled eyes caught the sight of sympathetic and slightly amused hazel eyes staring back at you.

“Gabe? How long have you been here?” You asked through gritted teeth. Gabriel cracked a grin at you.

“Long enough. Are you okay, Sugarplum? That was a nasty burn.”

You pulled your hand out from under the flow of water and immediately felt the assault of pain and saw the blisters already threatening to form on your skin. You immediately put your hand back in the water and looked up to the ceiling, blinking rapidly, trying to keep the tears at bay. You were strong, a warrior, a hunter! You’d been slashed and broken and sewn back together multiple times! A little burn would not take you down! Now, if only you could make the nerves in your fingers sending an excess of panic signals to your brain understand that.

“I’m fine,” you said firmly. Or, tried to. Your voice was too shaky to be believable. Gabriel smiled softly at you and reached over to try and pull your hand from the water. You resisted, the water being the only thing keeping the pain at bay.

“Come on, Sugar. Let me take a look.”

You took a deep breath, closed your eyes, and pulled your hand out from under the flow of icy water. You cringed when the pain hit, both at the pain itself and your reaction to it. Here come the tears, again. You chewed at your lip and tried to focus on the soft, purposeful way Gabriel was holding your hand in the air toward his face, seemingly inspecting the burn. You opened your eyes when you felt a strange sensation on your fingertips. Gabriel had your hand to his lips and was kissing each burned fingertip in turn, his eyes on you. With each kiss, you felt a tingling warmth trickle into your finger and heal the wound. He kissed the last finger, but continued to hold your hand to his face for a moment longer, eyes locked with yours, unblinking. Your heart fluttered and there was a new warmth spreading through your body, but you were pretty sure it had nothing to do with the burn.

After a moment of this intense staring contest, you found your voice. “Thank you, Gabriel,” you half-whispered. You pulled your eyes away from him, and as soon as you did, you saw your cookies strewn around the floor and the hardened, half-finished icing sitting in the mixing bowls, ruined. Your heart sank. Gabriel followed your eyes to your wasted efforts littering the kitchen. Releasing your newly-healed-by-way-of-angelic-kisses hand, he snapped his fingers. Suddenly, the mess was cleaned up, and on the counter sat fresh ingredients and clean mixing bowls.

“I don’t know that I’ve ever had cookies that I haven’t just snapped into existence,” he said softly, but earnestly, “think you could teach me?”

You looked at him, the eagerness to cheer you up palpable. He looked like an excited puppy, and the thought made you grin.

“Absolutely! Let’s get started.”


	2. Battle Wound

“Ouch! Careful, it takes a lot of work to look this good.”

 

You looked up at his face, eyes filled more with amusement than pain. You rolled yours at him and went back to your task at hand.

 

“Remind me again why you thought bull-rushing an angry rugaroo was a good tactic?” You said as you pulled the needle through his skin. He winced as you pulled the thread tight. “And why you insisted on being sewn up when you’re perfectly capable of healing yourself?”

 

“Hey now,” he said through gritted teeth, “in my defense, it seemed like a brilliant idea at the time!”

 

You chuckled in exasperation and leaned back after knotting the thread. You inspected your work as you spoke, “Gabe, you yelled ‘hey ugly’ and charged it like a linebacker! What about that is brilliant?”

 

Gabriel lifted your chin with his finger. “It had you pinned. What can I say? I panicked a bit.”

 

Your eyes softened and your face flushed slightly at the open display of vulnerability and emotion in his expression. You leaned forward and pecked his lips softly with yours.

 

As you leaned back, his face tore into a cocky smirk. “As for this,” he gestured to the newly-stitched gash across his chest, “I thought a battle wound might make me look more dashing, don’t you think?” He wagged his eyebrow at you, making you laugh.

 

Your grin faded into a small, contemplative smile as you gently ran your fingers over the wound. It was a jagged opening, and you were no nurse, so the stitching was a bit messy. It would definitely scar. You felt his eyes on you and you looked up to meet them.

 

“I like it when you take care of me. Now I’ll have a permanent reminder of it. Of you.”

 

You grinned and lightly smacked his shoulder. “You’re such a sap,” you teased.

 

He laughed and pulled you up and onto his lap. You fingered the collar of his open button-down. “You know you’re wearing flannel, right?”

 

His eyebrows knit in confusion. “Yes?”

 

“And now you have a hunting scar.”

 

“…yes?” You tried to keep your composure as you fought a shit-eating grin. You were losing the battle and your face must have shown it as he was looking at you strangely. You let the grin take over your face.

 

“You’re practically a Winchester.”

 

“Goddamnit.”


	3. Goodbye (For Now)

“The last time the world was ending I put my money on the four of you. I’m willing to bet I can do it again.”

Castiel strode forward in a rare show of anger.

“You cannot just abandon your father’s creation!”

Gabriel turned to his brother, eyes weary behind the defensiveness of his posture. When he spoke, it was with a finality that held a modicum of challenge, a reminder of exactly who his little brother was arguing with.

“My father abandoned his creation. I guess it just runs in the family.”

I watched it all play out from the corner of the room. I was sure Sam and Cas had forgotten I was even there. Gabriel obviously hadn’t. As he turned away his eyes met mine, softly pleading for me to understand. I felt, rather than heard, his voice in my head.

“I need time.”

Holding his gaze, I knew I had tears in my eyes and I knew he could see them. I refused to release them, but I couldn’t hold back the emotion pouring through my being. I had just gotten him back and now he was leaving again? I hadn’t even gotten to speak to him after he pulled himself out of his hole and became Archangel Gabriel again. It had been barely twenty minutes and it was entirely taken up by Sam and Cas giving him a run-through of the eight years he had missed. Besides a soft brush of my hand, he had barely acknowledged me or the past we shared. I gave him a barely perceptible nod before turning my eyes down and away, fighting the tears threatening to break. I felt something soft brush my cheek the moment before he disappeared.

“Dammit. Now what?”

Sam had turned to Castiel, both of them radiating anger.

“How could he just leave like that? Doesn’t he know what’s at stake? We need him and he’s just—he’s just gone!”

“Sam Winchester shut the hell up.”

Sam started and turned toward me, confirming my theory that he’d forgotten my presence.

“Y/N how can you be so calm?”

“I’m not. I just…understand.”

Sam ran his hand through his hair in frustration and began to pace.

“What are we supposed to do now? Without his grace we can’t get back to the other world! We need his help protecting our world if Michael invades!”

“What obligation does he have to a world who forgot him?”

Castiel stepped toward me.

“What do you mean, Y/N? He is an angel. His duty is to protect and serve mankind.”

“Oh, yeah,” I snorted. “Because all angels are just so gung-ho about serving humanity. Please, Castiel. Put yourself in his place. He’s been tortured for Chuck knows how long. He’s literally just gotten free and he might look fine, he might have most of his mojo back, but he’s probably pretty messed up. Sam, I think you of all people should understand. You weren’t so quick to bounce back after the Cage.”

Sam winced at the memory and had the good grace to look shameful at his anger toward Gabriel.

I sighed.

“Maybe he is gone for good. Maybe he will find another private island away from civilization inhabited by sex-starved hookers and fountains of chocolate and forget about all of this. Maybe when the world falls apart he will cut his losses and fall into the abyss with the rest of us. I like to think I know him better than that, though. He needs time. The least we can do is give it to him. He’ll be back. I hope.”

With that, I turned and strode from the room, leaving the two men behind me with their jaws hanging open and their tails between their legs. I reached my room and as soon as the door closed my tough exterior crumbled. I leaned against the door and let a few tears escape down my cheeks.

I took a deep, shuddering breath to stabilize myself and rubbed my hands over my face, erasing the signs of any tears. My hands on my knees, I took a moment to breathe.

“Chocolate fountains and sex-starved hookers, huh?”

My head shot up and my eyes found the bedraggled angel sitting cross-legged on your bed. My face must have been a picture because the corner of his mouth was turning up in amusement as he looked at me.

I finally found my voice.

“I…I thought you were leaving?”

“I was,” he said, starting to climb off the bed. “I am. I just…needed to see you, first.”

He reached me and his hands gripped my arms gently.

“Gabriel, I—don’t think I’m not upset with you,” I started as I let him pull me close to him, “because I am. Upset.”

He hummed in response as his arms wrapped around my shoulders. I let myself melt into the moment, the feeling of being in his arms again, a sensation I had craved for almost a decade. His scent was just as I remembered it. Ethereal musk, flavored with a hint of chocolate and citrus. I nuzzled my face into the crook of his neck and breathed deeply.

“I missed you,” he whispered into my hair.

“Gabriel…” I raised my head and pushed away from the embrace slightly, enough he could see the seriousness on my face.

“We need to talk.”

His arms dropped from me and I felt their loss immediately. His eyes found mine and I saw the mix of conflicting emotion and pain in them.

“I know.”

“You left.”

“I know.”

“You left me.”

“I…I know.”

“And now you’re leaving again.”

“…yes. I am.”

“And I’m supposed to just be okay with all of that?”

His hand reached out to stroke my cheek comfortingly, which I allowed.

“No, Sugar. I don’t expect you to. I know I have a lot to atone for and I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you, I swear. I heard what you told Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dumber out there. I know you understand why I have to leave.”

I leaned my cheek against his hand.

“I do. I don’t blame you. Take all the time you need. Just know we are overdue for a very long conversation as soon as you get back.”

I hesitated.

“You…you are coming back, right?”

Instead of responding, he leaned forward and kissed my forehead, his hand in my hair at the back of my head. Once again, I could feel, rather than hear, the promise in my head. My eyes had closed when his lips touched my skin.

When I opened my eyes, he was gone.


	4. 13x18 Drabble (1)

“Y/N, I’m sorry! I can’t—“

“Can’t what?”

“I can’t—“

“Can’t WHAT, Gabriel? What?”

“Y/N—“

“Can’t stay? Can’t help the people who saved you?”

“I—“

“The people who risked their lives to save you?”

“Y/N, I—“

“The people who love you? The people you BROKE when you ‘died’?”

“Y/N, I didn’t—“

“YES. Yes, you DID, Gabriel. You ran off to Monte Carlo to find whores and pretend all of this shit didn’t exist and the world wasn’t fucking ending and WE were stuck here! I was stuck here. Wishing I could drink myself into a bullet in my mouth but I had a FUCKING JOB to do!”

“…I didn’t know—“

“Oh FUCK YOU you didn’t know. I prayed to you every night for two years. You didn’t give a shit, apparently.”

“Y/N…”

“Just fucking go already.”

Gabriel started to open his mouth once more to reply, but the look on your face of deepest betrayal and disgust stoppered his mouth. He started to turn away from you when your words held him back once more.

“I loved the Gabriel I thought I knew. The Gabriel I thought I knew wasn’t a coward.”

You saw the words hit him. He flinched physically, avoiding your eyes.

With barely a sound, he disappeared.


	5. 13x18 Drabble (2)

“Don’t make me do this, brother.”

 

I heard him almost whisper the words to what he thought was me. I could see a shadow of the glorious archangel, our Father’s favorite son, my big brother, in the being before me wielding an angel blade. It made my heart ache and yearn for a time long forgotten, before humans, before any of this was set into motion. I dissipated into the air, acting as my double, where I watched, hidden, as Lucifer stabbed the real double in the stomach. A bittersweet moment of pride ran through me at my deception. After all this time, I’m still the Trickster.

 

The moment was cut short as a bloodcurdling scream rang through the room. My eyes found her, being held back and dragged away by Kali and the brothers. She was fighting them and screaming my name, trying to get to the double on the floor. My heart felt as though it was ripping through my chest as I watched her. Every atom in my being wanted to go to her, ease her pain. Every second that passed my willpower cracked.

 

She broke free of the ones holding her and had reached the body on the floor. She was crying my name, shaking the body, willing it to wake up. I felt wetness and realized I was crying, too. I hated this. I hated having to hurt her like this. I hated myself for hurting her.

 

I drank in the sight of her for another moment, memorizing the details of her face, twisted as they were with grief. She wouldn’t understand. She would never forgive me for doing this to her. I knew I would never see her again and the thought of it nearly made my resolve crumble. Before I completely broke, I teleported away. I barely paid attention to where I went. I knew I was hundreds of miles away as my feet hit sand and the moon reflected off the ocean in front of me. I fell to my knees and sobbed like I hadn’t done in millennia.

 

It was better this way.


	6. 13x18 Drabble (3)

“My father turned his back on his creation. I guess it just runs in the family.”

 

I knew they would be after me. I didn’t expect anything less. If you ever want to be hunted to the ends of the earth, or, as present situations show, to the ends of an infinite number of parallel universes, piss off a Winchester. I could feel their anger and hatred following me as I left. I know they’ll find me and I’ll be pulled into their new apocalypse just like I was before. I didn’t bother explaining why I was leaving, they wouldn’t have understood (or cared). That’s one of the biggest flaws of the little trio, they can never see beyond their own asses long enough to notice things that are important to other people. If it doesn’t help their crusade, it doesn’t matter. That’s where they’re wrong. Some things matter more than the imminent destruction of the world. Some things had gone too long with open wounds that needed closing. Bruises that need healing. Now that I’m fully in control of my vessel again, I have every intention of fixing wrongs that should have been fixed years ago. There was only one mission on my mind, one purpose. The reason I stayed alive all those years. The reason I refused to succumb.

 

The street I stood on was familiar, yet so different. So much could change over six years. Buildings that once existed were gone and there were new buildings where there used to be empty lots and run-down hovels. I walked down the street, my feet remembering their destination like muscle memory. I hoped to my father you hadn’t moved.

 

I reached the building I was seeking. An old apartment building, the smell was so familiar. I drank it in, the stale earthiness of the brick and the tang of the copper pipes. The tinge of the dumpster around the corner. Someone had cooked Vietnamese food on the third floor. There was murky rainwater trickling through the gutters. It wasn’t a glamorous smell, but it smelled more like home than Heaven ever did.

 

I found myself outside your door. I could hear the hum of the fan you always kept running and smiled to myself, knowing you were as predictable as I’d hoped. There was a lingering smell of your shampoo and cold pizza. I raised my fist to knock on the door.

 

I hesitated.

 

What the hell was I supposed to say? “Honey, I’m home! Sorry about disappearing for the last six years, a Knight of Hell jonesin’ for a promotion got the jump on me and I’ve spent the better part of the last decade alternating between playing his punching bag and his grace-dispensing machine as he drained me to the brink of death and insanity. How’s the cat?”

 

I sighed and leaned against the wall beside the door. Who’s to say you’d even want to see me? You’d probably moved on. I was probably just a bad memory by now. Maybe you’d even convinced yourself I didn’t exist in the first place. Maybe—

 

“…me, Gabe. I know it’s probably stupid to still be praying to you like this after all these years, but I just can’t get you out of my head tonight. It’s been a rough week. I miss you. I hope you’re still alive out there. The thought of you being…well, I’ll keep believing you’re somewhere. I saw a little boy today who had the most beautiful amber eyes, they looked so much like yours. He was eating a huge chocolate ice cream cone and being pulled along by his mom but we locked eyes for a moment and I swear I could almost feel you. I know I’m probably just some mortal girl you shacked up with for a while, barely a blip on your radar, but I like to imagine it was more than that. Even if you never answer my prayers, I’ll keep praying. I love you, Gabriel. Goodnight.”

 

I had sunk to the floor without noticing. I realized I was crying. When was the last time I had cried? It didn’t matter. You were praying to me. You had been praying to me for years, it seemed. With my grace so low, having retreated almost completely into myself, being a pathetic husk of what I was, I hadn’t heard your prayers. The heartache of the missed years of prayers from you was crushing. What was slowly becoming excruciating though, was still being out here when you were just inside.

 

I didn’t bother knocking.

 

In the blink of an eye I was standing in your living room. The scent of you was almost overwhelming on this side of the door. You’d changed the decor a bit. You had new pieces of furniture that i realized with a jolt were worn in from years of use. The cold pizza smell was emanating from the box sitting on the counter in the small kitchen. Long-forgotten images of dancing in that kitchen, making cookies, cooking dinner, other activities that were not-so-kitchen-friendly, flashed through my mind and I smiled for the first time in years.

 

A sound pulled me from my reverie. I glanced to your bedroom door, cracked open. An old habit, you’d always keep the door slightly ajar for the cat. A cursory glance around the apartment suggested you didn’t have a cat anymore. He had probably died in the years I’d been away. Another pang shot through my chest at another time over the last few years you’d needed me and I was nowhere to be found. That cat had been practically your child. I wondered why you hadn’t gotten a new one.

 

I made my way to your door and quietly pushed the door open far enough for me to slip inside. This room you’d barely changed, I was slightly surprised to see. The same furniture, the same blankets and wall hangings that were so familiar. You even still had that picture of us from when I took you to Italy sitting on the table beside your bed. Another snore, and you shifted on the bed, pulling my eyes to you.

 

I drank in the sight of you. Your hair was different. Your face had aged. You had more frown and worry lines than you once had. Your cheeks were a little more sunken than what they should have been. You looked as though you’d been through a lot, which I knew you had. Most of it was my fault and I hated myself for it. If only I’d been stronger…

 

I shook myself out of the self-despair and quietly made my way to your bed. I crawled onto what used to be my side. I reached over and stroked a piece of hair away from your face. You always looked so peaceful in your sleep. So beautiful.

 

You stirred. My hand hesitated on your cheek. Your eyes opened just slightly, eyes foggy with sleep. I knew you weren’t fully awake.

 

“S’abreil?” You slurred.

 

I smiled. “Hey, Sugar.”

 

“Hurrhome?”

 

“Yeah, Baby. I’m home. Shhh, now. Go back to sleep. We can talk about it in the morning.”

 

“‘kay. Luhhvew.”

 

“I love you too, Sugar.”

 

You snuggled closer to me and I wrapped my arms around you. My heart thudded in my chest. I’d longed to be back here, in your bed, holding you, loving you, for so long. I felt another tear escape down my cheek. Look at me, crying twice in one day. Barely a day with my sanity intact and I was already becoming a sap. I chuckled softly to myself.

 

I knew you’d be upset when you woke up. You’d need explanations and I’d give you what little I could. For now, I was going to enjoy this.

 

God, I had missed you. The Winchester’s be damned. This was my family. This was where I belonged.


	7. Too Early

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sweet dreams are hard to come by these days.

You shifted in your sleep and it made the arms around you tighten in response. The added pressure woke you just enough to smile sleepily and snuggle into the warmth of the chest against your back, the remnants of your dream slipping away. A throaty chuckle, heavy with sleep, sounded near your ear and you felt a soft pair of lips press a kiss to the back of your head. The spot where his lips touched you felt warm and your thumb rubbed appreciative circles on the forearm your hand was resting on.

 

“Go back to sleep, Sugar. It’s barely five in the morning,” a voice like smooth honey whispered on the pillow beside you.

 

“Too early,” your sleep drunk voice supplied, “I’d rather be here.” You twisted around, eyes still closed, so your front was pressed against his. His arms tightened again, securing you comfortably against his body. His fingers trailed along your back and tangled absently in your hair.

 

“I’ll spend eternity here with you,” he said, with a kiss to your forehead. With the kiss came a wash of grace, sending you smoothly back to sleep.

 

You awoke to your alarm at a quarter past six. You sleepily reached for the arms you could still feel around your body but your fingers met only your own cool skin and the bedsheets. If you concentrated you could still feel the warmth the embrace had left behind. It trickled away, and you grasped at it, wanting to indulge yourself, but it was like chasing smoke. Your eyes cracked open and you turned over. Your fingers traced the untouched pillow beside you, the ethereal smell they once held almost gone. You inhaled against it deeply, trying in vain once more to commit the smell to memory although you knew it was fading, soon to be lost to the far reaches of your mind. The sheets on the right side of your bed look slightly rumpled, and you almost let yourself believe you weren’t alone in it. You shook the thought away. It’s too early. Your bed suddenly feels too large for just your small body and you quickly climb out of it anyway. You refuse to look at it as you dress for the day.

 

How ironic, your bed to be so cold and empty, a perfectly cruel reminder that he would never sleep beside you again. He sleeps somewhere else now, somewhere you can’t reach. You hope his dreams are sweet.

 

You hope he dreams of you as much as you dream of him.


End file.
